Brainstorming with @hexoflexi c:
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Haymark, North Carolina, sat at the foot of the foothills, except that one year where it ended up in the mountains.
Used to be called Shadow Foothills, but about five years back the townsfolk got together and voted to change it so we wouldn't be sister cities with that God-blessed place up in Iowa, not after everything that happened there.
So they decided to name it after the mayor at the time. His name wasn't Haymark, but that is what everyone said when they walked into his office.
They say he's the last good mayor Haymark ever had, which strikes me a bit presumptuous, given there's only been one mayor since then. What they *meant* was that he was corrupt, but in the fun way that meant that he only took bribes from people who could beat him in golf.
They say he kept all the government men out of town (false), that he kept crime low (false), and that he was a good Christian man (false, false, true). Some folks'll say that he was a bloodsucking politician (true, but only technically, since he was a vampire).
They called me the Yankee, which always struck me a mite unfair since I was from only two hours to the north, still well below the Mason-Dixon line.
But they used it as a way to get out of telling me anything. 'Don't talk to the Yankee.' 'You know how Yankees are.' At this point, I wasn't sure if Yankee didn't just mean 'out-of-towner'. Never mind that I'd lived here since I was 10.
The thing is about Haymark: people here don't go missing. People go missing here. On the bright side, I've never had to deal with door to door salesmen.
The butcher down the way was a werewolf. You learned not to ask where the meat came from.
